Lovers in the Parking Lot
by PaperFrames
Summary: He tries to guide her down on the bed and onto her back, but Olivia doesn't budge; there's something far too intimate; too trusting about the missionary position for her tonight. And its not that she doesn't trust Cassidy, its that she doesn't trust anyone. She needs to be in control, and she doesn't need intimate. She needs dirty, rough, and disconnected – pure unadulterated lust.


**A/N**: If you clicked on this expecting a Scandal update, I'm sorry! Don't fret, I will have that update soon. I've just been extremely busy and I have to go where my creativity takes me, which is here right now.

So, for this piece: This is my first ever L&O:SVU story. Please be gentle with me, I beg. lol. That and it's 1:05am here. haha. I AM an E/O shipper, but I've come to terms with well the unthinkable - Elliot is gone for good, so my second ship is Bensidy. Please no flames. If you don't like Bensidy, don't read. I'm not asking you to like them.

Also, #GODSAVETHEQUEEN aka#SAVEBENSON because I just may well die from trauma on Wednesday.

Anyways, this is just a short, but hopefully sweet (?) two part story about Bensidy - which I'll have part two done shortly.

hope you enjoy!

-M

**Disclaimer**: I wish I was Dick Wolf, New York Undercover would have never been cancelled and Moreno would be working SVU with Olivia. So in other words, I own nothing.

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Lovers in the Parking Lot

_Left your heart behind when I laid eyes and said I'm up and done _  
_The young just love and don't look back or wait for anyone _  
_And baby you loved me but I just up and wanted to run _

-Solange Knowles '_Lovers in the Parking Lot_'

**/Part 1: 1999/**

Sweat mingled with the faint taste of salt, intermixed with tequila lingers along his skin as she drink him in; her tongue oscillates between a soft suckling and gentle biting – just rough enough to elicit a gruff moan from him.

One of his hands fists in her hair, yanking on it gently; the other hand dances up her side, pushing up the wool of her sweater to knead the soft flesh. With swollen lips, she places one last kiss to the nape of his neck and wiggles out of their current position – him hovering over. An uninhibited youthfulness fills her body, and she swings them over so that she's straddling him with her bare thighs.

Most of their clothes have long been discarded, right after they both drunkenly stumbled through the door to her apartment. Currently, he wore only his boxers - she, a pair of black silk panties, a matching bra, and a gray wool sweater.

His hands untangle from her dark hair, and immediately find their way to her hips, clutching them tightly as his own hips jolt upward.

She digs her nails into his flesh and he winces, his grip tightening, threatening to leave bruises. There's a gleam in her eyes and a grin on her face as she bites her bottom lip, revealing in the feeling he's giving her. She's buzzed, not wasted, and she wants this; he does too. She can feel him pressed against her, painfully erect, shoved inside his boxers, and begging her for entrance.

And she's far too willing to oblige. No matter how much she wants to make him wait, to beg even more, she can't. Truth is she's been thinking about this moment all night, ever since he'd leaned over in his barstool and nuzzled her neck.

"Liv, please," he grunts in straggled moans; her heart thumps madly in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Please," he reiterates by jerking his hips forward once more, and thrusting against her. He won't make a move to enter her until he's gotten full confirmation.

Olivia nods, her voice barely above a breathy moan as she whispers 'Yes.' She yanks the wool sweater over her head and before she can regain her full balance, she finds herself on her back. Cassidy's lips attack her skin, wet hot kisses pepper her flesh, and all she can do is moan in ecstasy, her hands fisting in his hair and yanking – hard.

Cassidy winces, and a low chuckle escape his lips. The gruff bravado of his voice sends goose bumps down her arms, and she shivers, her brown eyes now black from lust. No longer able to stand the aching in his groin, he pauses his assault on her chest with his lips, and sits up to peel off his boxers. Olivia follows suit, and she contorts her thin athletic frame until both arms are behind her back and unclasping her bra. Before she can get the material completely off her chest, Cassidy's lips are back on hers, and she's being pressed into her mattress. His hands climb up her thighs, to the only material restricting them from giving in to their lust.

With one fail swoop he pulls the panties from lower half and tosses them to the ground. He parts her legs with his knees, but before their bodies can connect Olivia's stilled him with a hand against his chest.

Even in a drunken haze she knows what does and does not make her comfortable. She also knows that one pregnancy scare (no matter how long ago it was) is enough to last a lifetime. Once again Olivia wiggles out from underneath him, and gets to her knees, jostling their weight on the bed. She leans over to the nightstand alongside her bed and rifles around until her hand clasps its treasure: a condom. She hands it to Cassidy, and he smiles, slips it on, and throws her a questioning look.

Her brown hair bounces as she bobs her head, and he approaches her. His fingers curl around her waist possessively, digging into her flesh in an attempt to mark her as his. She faintly wonders just how many bruises she's going to have tomorrow, and if any of them will be visible. She'll wear a blazer just in case.

He tries to guide her down on the bed and onto her back, but Olivia doesn't budge; there's something far too intimate; too trusting about the missionary position for her tonight.

And its not that she doesn't _trust_ Cassidy, its that _she doesn't trust anyone_. She needs to be in control, and she doesn't need intimate. She needs dirty, rough, and disconnected – pure unadulterated lust.

So she pushes on his shoulders and sends them both tumbling forward, and then straddles him. Cassidy grins as he reaches up to cup her face in his hands, pushing back a few strands of brown hair as they fall into her face. His thumbs dance along her bruised lips.

In that moment, through her drunken haze, she can see that this one night stand – which is what she's counting it as – means more to him that it will ever mean to her. There's softness to his expression, and tenderness in his touch that confirms it.

And she knows that she's going to break his heart.

Brian wants intimacy, a relationship – connection.

All she wants is to fuck until she can't remember her own name.

She knows that she should stop this – them – before it starts, but she's too far gone in her own desire to even try. She lines her hips up against his and their bodies become one.

Insatiable lust dulls her senses and any inclination of guilt she had soon disappears, lost beneath the sensation of a building orgasm.

Later she collapses onto Cassidy's chest, her breathes coming out in bursts, as his arms snake around her bare back, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. As she comes down from her high, she wonders just how she's going to get herself out of this mess.


End file.
